Special Days
by Infinitys-End
Summary: Some days do not go as planned in the Peredhil household. Twinfic
1. Special Days

Disclaimer: All things related to Middle Earth belong to J.R.R. Tolkien… I'm just borrowing it for a bit.  I promise to put everything back when I'm done.

A/N: Happy Birthday, 'Dan!

Special Days

"'Ro!"  A soft, anxious whisper broke the pre-dawn silence.  There was a soft thump, and the light patter of small, unshod feet skittering across the chill hardwood floor.

            "Wake up 'Ro!"  A young, dark-haired elfling implored as he shoved the blanket-covered lump in the bed across from his.  A muffled groan came from under the soft blankets, proving the lump was, in fact, alive.

            "Go 'wayit'searly"  The lump muttered sleepily, much to the elfling's chagrin.  This was not the reaction he wanted.  A dark scowl formed on his fair young face.  He studied the unmoving lump, unconsciously imitating his father's formidable glare.  Finally, he decided this sort of behavior should not be tolerated.  Quietly he snuck away from the bed, leaving the lump in peace.  The lump snored on, oblivious to the displeasure of the thwarted elfling.  Then, without even a word of warning, the elfling tore across the room and leapt up onto the bed, pouncing on the unmoving lump.

            "'Dan!" came the muffled shriek from the attacked lump, and then the bed exploded in a flurry of bedclothes, feathers, pillows, and elflings.  The battle raged in the soft pre-dawn light, and both combatants were doubled over with laughter before the end.  Slowly the feathers and the pillows stopped flying, leaving two out-of-breath elflings on the once elegantly furnished bed.  They were alike as two peas in a pod, from their dark mussed hair, to their bright grey eyes, to the way they lay sprawled in identical giggling heaps.

            "'Ro?" Elladan asked between giggles, looking over at his twin.

            "Yes 'Dan?" Elrohir replied, still trying to catch his breath.

            "Do you remember what today is?" Elladan asked with a fire-bright grin.  In response, Elrohir whapped his twin with a pillow.

            "Of course!" he answered scornfully.  After a moment he added, "Do you think ada and naneth remember too?"

            Elladan furrowed his brow in thought, considering the question.  Sometimes adults could be very forgetful, besides being strange in general.  Perhaps it would be best to remind them.  He shot a questioning glance to Elrohir.  His twin had evidently come to the same conclusion because his brother scooted off the bed, landing with a soft thump on the polished wood floor.  Elladan followed hurriedly.  

            The carven oak door swung open silently, propelled by the combined force of the two young elflings.  The darkened room was silent, and the courage that had sustained the pair thus far failed them at this lack of warm reception.  Elrohir crept forward first, with Elladan hard on his heels.  Quietly they scrambled up onto the foot of the bed… then stopped in shock.

            "Ada?  Naneth?"  Elladan queried softly, even though it was evident that neither were there.  Elrohir looked as lost as his twin felt.  Perhaps they had forgotten – sometimes ada and naneth would go riding alone, and sometimes, very rarely, they stayed out all day.  Of course Glorfindel or Erestor would be here for them but… even Glorfindel would not be good enough today.  Carefully Elrohir scooted across the empty bed and cuddled his ada's pillow.  The frown on his face deepened – the pillow was not even warm.  Elladan came after him, dragging the disturbed coverlet.  The two snuggled together for mutual comfort like a pair of lost puppies.  Within minutes, they were both asleep, curled up in the abandoned bed.

Lord Elrond Peredhil, master of the Last Homely House, wearily strode though the halls towards his own room.  He had not seen his bed since the ranger company had clattered into his courtyard in the dead of the night.  The Dúnedain had fallen afoul of a band of orcs.  Both parties had been unprepared for battle, but the orcs had been part of a war party, while the humans, unfortunately, had not.  Most of their band had been more dead than alive when he had first seen them.  Not only had half of their band been made up by lightly armed women, most of the humans had been woefully young and inexperienced in the ways of battle, even for their kind.  Valar bless her, Celebrian had stayed by his side all through the night, helping to calm the women and younger rangers.  The injuries had been severe, but he could safely say not that most, if not all, of the Dúnedain would live to walk their beloved wilds once more.  Celebrian had elected to stay in the infirmary with a young mother who was highly traumatized by the whole experience, and rightly so.

            The halls were quiet at this hour of the morning.  It felt especially still after the barely controlled panic that he had been living through during the last couple of hours.  He was thankful the hour was still early – he intended to make today special for his sons.  First, however, he felt a bath was sorely needed.  The stench of blood and death still followed him, bringing with it unpleasant and unwelcome memories.  No, today would be cheerful, a day to relax with his family…

            His thoughts were interrupted by one of his aides dashing towards him with unseemly haste.  The tall, studious elf looked positively flustered, which was a most unusual occurrence.  Elrond had to rely heavily on his much-vaunted diplomatic ability to keep from laughing outright at the almost pathetically relieved expression on the younger elf's face.

            "My lord, a moment…" the aide began, uncertain of his Lord's mood.  

            "Go on, Tuluneth."  Elrond encouraged patiently.  Sometimes he wondered what it was that inspired members of his staff to behave so nervously around him.  Perhaps Glorfindel had been telling them wild stories again.  Regaining his courage, the aide plowed onward.

            "My Lord, another band of Dúnedain have arrived, inquiring after the first."  Elrond raised a wry eyebrow at that.  He strongly doubted the hardened warriors were simply 'inquiring'.  Sometimes he could see his twin's fierce stubbornness in Elros' offspring.  

            "They also beg an audience with you, sir." Tuluneth added with a slight grimace.  Actually, the edain had not 'begged' anything – demanded would be more correct.  Such crude, ungainly creatures…

            Elrond bit back a sigh.  It seemed as if all of Arda wanted to stand between him and his plans for today.  He quickly glanced out a nearby window, judging the time.  It was still early enough that his sons should not be awake yet.  

            "I will come.  Please show the Dúnedain into the infirmary." Elrond requested.  The aide nodded, then hurried off to fulfill his Lord's orders.  Elrond watched him go and contemplated slipping off for a quick cat-bath and a change of clothes.  After a bit of internal debate, he decided he did not have enough time.  Besides, the sooner he dealt with his unexpected guests, the sooner he could get on with his plans for the day uninterrupted.  As he headed back to the infirmary, he fantasized about leaving Imladris to Glorfindel and Erestor, packing up his family, and heading off for some secluded place where he had no responsibilities.


	2. Arguments and Decisions

Disclaimer: Nothing concerning Middle Earth is mine – it all belongs to Tolkien and his heirs, of which I am not one.  I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Arguments and Decisions

Elladan woke up first, blinking sleepily as the first light of dawn peeked into the room.  He lifted his head to look around the room, his mussed dark hair falling over his face.  Elrohir woke at his twin's movement.  At first, he looked a little confused at finding himself in his parents' bed.  Then memory returned, and he frowned.  Ada and naneth still were not here.  Elladan, on the other hand, looked thoughtful.

"'Ro?  Do you remember the story about ada's ada and naneth?" he asked slowly.

"Yes…" Elrohir replied hesitantly, not entirely sure where Elladan was going with this.  

"Do you think… I mean…" Elladan did not want to say what he was thinking, as if the spoken word could make such a thing true.

"That ada and naneth are gone?" Elrohir supplied quietly.  He had been wondering the same thing himself.

"Yes."  Elladan answered, equally quiet.  It was an awful thought, but one that refused to go away.

"But ada wouldn't leave!  Neither would naneth!" Elrohir argued, but there was very little conviction in his voice.  Ada had not thought that his naneth would leave either, but she had.  The twins stared at each other in shared misery.  Then Elrohir broke the silence.

"What are we going to do?" he asked miserably.

"They might come back.  Ada sees daeradar every night…" Elladan mused.

"As a star!" Elrohir protested heatedly.  That was not how he wanted to greet his ada from now on.

"But that was because of the Sil… the Sil… the big glowing stones.  Ada and naneth do not have any of those." Elladan replied stoutly.

"True…" Elrohir conceded thoughtfully.  He mulled over this for a moment.  "This does not help us.  How will we find them?" he pointed out pragmatically.

"We could go on a quest."  Elladan suggested.  Whenever the heroes of his favorite stores needed to find something, they went on a quest.   Elrohir nodded eagerly, his childish face alight with glee.

"We can hunt and kill orcs and camp under the stars and stay up all night!" he exclaimed, the excitement over this new adventure over-riding his misery of being abandoned by his parents.  

"And we'll be brave and fight and be noble, and songs will be made about us!" Elladan added, catching his brother's excitement.

"We should go now before they try to stop us." Elrohir urged.  There was no need to define who 'they' were.  Glorfindel and Erestor simply would not understand.  Elladan nodded in agreement.  Both elflings slid off the massive bed, bolting towards their shared room.  After all, adventurers and heroes did not head out in their night clothes.

Elrond was quickly becoming annoyed, though he did his best not to show it.  The morning was beginning to wear on, and he had not even had time to say good morning to his sons.  

"My _Lord _Elrond, you must send your warriors to fight off the orcs coming west over the mountains." Mathorn's voice held a distinct patronizing tone that set Elrond's teeth on edge.  He was very thankful that he did not have to deal with this Dúnadan on a regular basis.  The only reason he had to do so at the moment was that both of Mathorn's superiors were lying unconscious in the infirmary.  

"My warriors already patrol the lands surrounding Imladris." Elrond replied reasonably, relying on centuries of diplomatic experience to keep his tone civil.  "I cannot…"

"You must!" Mathorn broke in sharply, clearly irritated at being denied.  "As the commander of the Eastern patrol…"

"Temporary commander."  Elrond corrected dryly, singularly unimpressed by the man's show of temper.  He firmly resisted the urge to throw this impudent human out of his office. He had already moved this utterly pointless conversation from the infirmary to here, since his repeated requests for quiet conversation were blatantly ignored.  "Your own commander will return to full health and strength in a short time." He emphasized the title, hoping to remind Mathorn of his place.  Perhaps a message to this man's king in Annúminas would not go amiss.

"Until then, my word is law in these parts." Mathorn growled.

"For your own people, sir.  Not mine." Elrond replied shortly, no longer willing to humor this man.  "You overstep your place."

"Then I demand my own people back… including Maechen and Himor." Marthorn snarled, naming his two commanders, of which both were still recovering from the previous night's battle.  Elrond stared at him in shock, and then narrowed his eyes.  

"The injured cannot leave, the move would surely kill them."  Elrond coolly informed the irate man.

"Why should you care?  You doom the rest of my people to death, why not them?" Mathorn snapped back.  If the overbearing soldier was expecting Elrond to respond in kind, he was sorely disappointed.  Elrond stared back at him, cold as a Wight's barrow and immovable as stone.

"You are over-weary and stressed.  Go to Maechen, he should have awoken by now, his wounds were not as grievous as the others." Elrond noted shortly, moderating his tone so it came just shy of ordering Mathorn out of the room.  He categorically refused to explain his motives to this fool.  Mathorn, even as obtuse and overbearing as he was, got the hint and hurried out of the room, the heavy door swinging shut behind him.  

Elrond sagged wearily into a chair, showing uncharacteristic frustration.  There were times he wearied of caring for his brother's descendents… this would be one of those times.  The door quietly opened and clicked shut, but Elrond did not look up.  Perhaps Mathron had finally found a properly scathing reply.

"You look weary, my love." A soft voice murmured.  Elrond lifted his head to gaze into Celebrian's bright, concerned eyes.

"I am well, _nin-meleth_." Elrond replied, rising to meet her embrace.  Gratefully he pulled her close, taking comfort in her soothing presence.  He wondered, and not for the first time, how he had ever been able to function without her.  When she spoke, the thick pile of his robe muffled her voice.

"The last of the young women sleep peacefully now." Celebrian informed her husband.  "Provided they are left undisturbed, they should sleep deeply for some hours." Elrond nodded and sighed.

"I pray they will!  Mathorn does not agree with me in most matters this morning, and I fear he may do something rash.  Before I wake the twins I must go encourage the on-duty healer to refuse any ill-advised orders from Mathorn, I will not have my patients killed by his idiocy." He stated definitively, fury at the temporary commander burning, muted, in his keen grey eyes.  Celebrian pulled away from him and smiled.  

"I will go." She offered sweetly. "Go, be with your sons." She instructed with a soft smile.  

"As the lady commands, of course." Elrond replied silkily.  He bent and kissed her, then moved towards the door.


	3. Startings and Surprises

            Disclaimer: Anything pertaining to Middle Earth or its inhabitants belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I am just playing… I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Startings and Surprises

Two quiet shadows snuck into the warm and well-kept stable.  Most of the horses and ponies immediately dismissed the pair, since they were obviously not the ones coming with their morning grain.  To their surprise, there were at least a half-dozen horses they did not recognize, all with unfamiliar tack and builds quite unlike that of the deceptively delicate elven steeds.  They wished they could ask someone about this strange appearance, but the stable master was not around.  The stable master, a kindly elf whom the twins adored, was busy up at the main house giving the morning report.  Thus, he was not there to see the twin elflings sneak into their ponies' stalls.  The two sturdy grey ponies greeted their masters enthusiastically, nuzzling them for hidden treats, which the twins obligingly delivered.  Once this greeting ritual was over, Elladan began to vigorously groom his little gelding while Elrohir fetched the ponies' grain.  The packs that they had been hauling were left inside one of the ponies' stalls, since it would be burdensome to carry them around while they worked.  Their ada and Glorfindel had warned them repeatedly against forcing their mounts to work without properly caring for them first.  Besides, true adventurers took good care of their animals – everybody knew that.  Asfaloth, Glorfindel's stallion, watched the pair calmly.  Elrohir waved to the great white horse cheerfully has he carefully put the grain buckets away after filling the ponies' mangers.  He had always liked Glorfindel's horse.  He did think that it was terribly odd, however, that Glorfindel always named his horses Asfaloth.  Surely, it was more fun to think of a new name each time!  It had been great fun to name his own pony 'Stormy', while Elladan had named his 'Cloudy'.  Of course, they had been little then, or they would have thought of better, and more heroic, names for their steeds.  They had obviously done a lot of growing up in the last few months.  He dragged a rough-hewn stool over to the equipment racks and picked out the two pony-sized halters that ada had given them, making sure to keep the leather from dragging as he carried them back to the stalls, where Elladan was finishing his furious grooming job of the second pony.  He hooked Elladan's halter on the convenient elfling-height handle outside of Cloudy's stall, and began working on tacking his Stormy.

            "'Dan, do you think we have enough honey-cakes?" he asked as he carefully slid the halter over Stormy's nose.

            "I think so."  Carefully Elladan hefted his brother's bulging leather pack over the wooden partition that separated them.  It balanced precariously on top of the wall, and then toppled over into the hay on Elrohir's side.  Both pony and elfling sneezed at the dust the pack raised.  After pulling on his pony's saddle, Elrohir shoved the pack onto his pony's broad back, trying to tie it down like he had seen Glorfindel's warriors do when they were heading out for patrols or drills.  It always looked so neat and tidy when they did it, rather unlike the chaotic mess Elrohir was creating.  Finally, he stood back and examined his finished product.  While his pack looked considerably less secure than Glorfindel's ever had, he was rather proud of it.  The ability to tie one's pack to one's horse was truly the skill of an adventurer.  Deciding that he was ready, he led his pony to where Elladan was waiting.  Elladan's pony was tacked in a manner similar to Elrohir's, save the many knots he used to tie down his pack were slightly different than Elrohir's, though the effect was equally artistic.  

            The sun was now just above the horizon, brightening the eastern sky.  Birds just returned from their winter homes began their daily chorus.  There were still patches of snow along the rim of the valley, and the pure whiteness gleamed in the morning light.  Both young elves stopped at the stable's great gate, staring out over the forested valley.

            "We probably will not return for a long time."  Elladan commented quietly.  "Quests have to take a long time to be worthwhile." He added with all of the authority of a budding scholar of lore.  His grey eyes were wide with more than a little fear and uncertainty, though eh would never admit as much to Elrohir.  Besides, the stories never mentioned adventurers being scared, so he would not be scared.  

            He could not know that Elrohir was just as frightened and just as unwilling to say so.  They had never left the valley before.  He knew daeradar and daernaneth lived in Lothlorien, which was south and east of the valley… somewhere.  He was not sure how far in each direction they were supposed to go to find their way there.  He also knew there were wood-elves near Lothlorien, though he was not sure where.  Ada always said they were fierce but loyal, though Glorfindel called them other, more interesting, things when the balrog slayer thought he and his brother were not around.  He had asked his ada once why Glorfindel said those things and what they meant, but ada had looked very sad and rather angry, and Glorfindel had turned an alarming shade of red.  He had not asked again.

            Also, he knew that Cirdan, the elf who make boats, lived somewhere west of the valley.  He had never met Cirdan, but he was fascinated by stories of the ancient Teleri.  He wondered what having a beard felt like.  Maybe he would grow one some day and find out.  

            Of course, he knew that Glorfindel had grown up in Gondolin, and Erestor in Lindon, but he was pretty sure those places did not exist any more.  Thus, it would be rather silly to try to go there… even though he thought it would be neat to go see Glorfindel's home.  It was so hard getting Glorfindel to talk about it.  However, with all this knowledge, there was one thing he still lacked.  The one thing he did not know was which whey they should go to find out where their ada and naneth had gone.  

            "We have to be brave, like ada when his ada and naneth left." Elrohir encouraged softly, though it was difficult to tell whether he was trying to bolster Elladan's confidence or his own.  Whichever it was, Elladan nodded in agreement.  Then, by some silent signal known only to them, they mounted their ponies and started down the path that led out of Imladris.

            A lone rider, dusty from the road, galloped down the narrow path leading into the hidden valley of Imladris.  His dark visage was bloodied and weary, and he road as if the very wolves of Sauron were at his heels.  As horse and rider passed under the overhanging branches of the first trees in the wooded valley, a sudden, commanding voice brought both to a standstill.

            "_Daro!_" The stern voice cried.  "State your business, stranger!"  Normally Hirtirun, the captain of the morning guard, would be much more friendly and much less abrupt with travelers, but this matter looked as if it needed immediate attention.  Besides, after hearing the tales of the previous watch, he was taking no chances.  Easily he leapt from his perch high up in a massive elm to land near the horse and rider, though he was careful to keep far enough away to avoid spooking the horse further, and to also keep well away from the rider should this prove to be a trick.  The rider's next words put most of his fears at ease, on that account at least.

            "Thank the Valar, I feared I had chosen the wrong valley to ride into." The rider gasped as he rubbed a steadying hand along his quivering mount's proud neck.  "My name is Felton, I am the king's messenger… please, I must speak to Maechen.  I tracked his party here, and I have news for him."  

            "Come, Commander Maechen is here, as are his two subordinates, I believe.  Lord Elrond is caring for him."  Felton paled at hearing this, but his questions were forestalled by Hirtirun's commanding gesture.   "Ask your questions on the way – I cannot leave my post for long." Hirtirun ordered, then swiftly led the young Dunadan deeper into the haven of Imladris.  Silence descended into that small portion of the valley.  Quietly, two shadows detached themselves from the shadowed forest, leading two equally small ponies.  They crept up the road, climbing steadily out of the valley, shushing their ponies all the way.

            Elrond only paused in his rooms for a moment to shed his bloodstained clothing and take a quick cat-bath.  Clad in fresh robes of deep blue, he headed towards the twins' room, smiling in anticipation.  Elladan and Elrohir had been looking forward to this day for quite some time with all the impatience the young possess.  Each minute had seemed a day, and the days had stretched without end… or at least that was what he had been told repeatedly by two anxious elflings.  Gently he pushed open the door, calling to his sons as he did so.

            "Elladan?  Elrohir?  Time to…" he trailed off as the brightening light of morning revealed that both beds were empty, and he was talking to himself.  Unconsciously he arched an eyebrow in surprise, taking in the mussed beds and the sleep clothes strewn over the floor.  He was pondering where his sons could have disappeared off to this early in the morning when rapid footsteps in the hall caught his attention.  Glorfindel, looking quite harried, burst through the doorway bare moments later.  He looked around the room hastily to be sure the twins were nowhere within earshot before delivering his news.

            "A young Dunadan has come with messages for Maechen.  There are wargs coming down from the mountains and moving closer to Imladris." The blonde warrior announced with the calm that came with millennia of training and experience.  Elrond nodded, showing he was listening, as he formulated a rough plan.

            "For a scouting patrol and keep the wargs well away from the valley." The elf lord ordered.  "Make sure, however, not to stir up too much commotion.  Many are already nervous with the sudden arrival of our guests."  As Glorfindel turned to leave, Elrond laid a stilling hand on his arm.  "One other thing – have you seen Elladan and Elrohir?  It seems their excitement woke them earlier than I guessed it would." Elrond inquired, smiling with amusement.  Glorfindel shook his head.

            "No, I have been organizing increased watches since before first light." Glorfindel replied, clearly aggravated by that fact.  He had not been pleased to hear of an attack so near to the valley.  Elrond sighed and shook his head as well.

            "I only hope they have not gotten into too much… trouble…" his voice trailed off and all amusement left his face.  Both of the twins' cloaks were gone, as were their heavy boots.  All of their favorite toys were missing as well… and perhaps most disturbingly, the two practice knives he had given the pair five years ago were absent. 

            "I will send out search parties immediately." Glorfindel left the room at a dead run.  There was, perhaps, an innocent explanation for these signs, but both elves knew what sort of mischief young elflings could get into – especially a certain pair of twin-born elflings.

            Elrond stood, a bit stunned, in his sons' room for a long moment.  What had gotten into the young elves' heads?  He prayed that they had not wandered far, not now of all times.  Finally, he shook himself and headed out the door.  He moved swiftly towards the infirmary.  Celebrian must know of this, and she must know of this from him.


	4. Arguments

Disclaimer: Everything associated with Middle Earth belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I own nothing, and I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Arguments

A thorough search of the hall and the outlying buildings did not reveal either of the two elflings, much to the searchers' dismay.  However, it did bring more clues to the searchers' attention.  Glorfindel and Erestor trailed a distraught and driven Elrond into the armory while Glorfindel outlined his new findings.  

"The head cook reports that the twins raided her kitchens earlier this morning, closer to dawn.  It seems they took a goodly number of honey cakes while they were left cooling.  Not entirely without the staff's blessing, however." Glorfindel reported dutifully, hastily adding the last detail to deflect any ire Elrond may feel towards his sons.  He paused to collect his thoughts, and then continued.  "Also, the twins' ponies are missing from the stable." That bit of information worried him.  It greatly increased the twins' range, and thus the distance he would have to search.  It also meant that the vigilance of the Border Guard would have to be increased even beyond the state he had left them earlier this morning.  With the latest disturbing news from outside the valley, he would not have the twins wandering about in the wide world unprotected.

            "And no one saw them leave?" Elrond asked incredulously.  His sons may be adept at hiding, but to sneak past the entire stable crew with two ponies…  that trick was beyond their skill.  The fact that the ponies were gone disturbed him – the twins rarely rode anywhere alone, since most of their favorite play areas were well within an elfling's walking range.

            "All were busy with a trio of fractious colts that were attempting to tear down their pens to attack each other out in the foal stables." Erestor explained hastily.  The yearlings had just been brought in for training, and had not learned how to behave themselves yet.  Elrond suppressed a shudder, and was terribly glad that he had made it perfectly clear to Elladan and Elrohir that they were to stay well away from the young unruly horses until they were calmed.  He knew, at the very least, that whatever trouble the twins were in, they were not trampled under the hooves of those excitable horses.

            "What of the Border Guard?  Have they not seen my sons?" Elrond asked Glorfindel, giving Erestor a much-appreciated reprieve.  When Elrond became focused in his questioning, it became rather nerve-wracking for the one being questioned.  The blonde Vanya shook his head. 

:           "No news.  I hold hope that the twins may yet be in the valley." Glorfindel answered calmly, firmly refusing the temptation to leap to the defense of his Guard.  Elrond was just worried – he should know that if the twins were spotted they would be brought in immediately, especially if they were found so close to the edge of the protected valley.

            The trio hurried into the armory.  The armory was usually Glorfindel's haven and the gathering area for the Border Guard that Glorfindel trained.  Bright weapons, all polished and oiled, gleamed in the flickering torch-light.  The mingled smells of old and well-cared for leather, polish, burning pitch, and the horsy smell from the war tack filled the room.  Glorfindel automatically picked up his favorite knife and sword, but gave Elrond a surprised look when the half-elf chose a knife as well, strapping the belt around his waist.

            "Elrond… the entire Guard will be looking for them.  I will be looking for them.  You should stay here and comfort Celebrian." He suggested.  He had already lost the twins – having to keep watch on Elrond's safety as well… It was not as if he did not trust Elrond to take care of himself, it was just that he had made a promise a long time ago, and he meant to keep that promise.  Elrond favored him with a dark glower.

            "My _sons_ are out there, alone, on today of all days.  I am going after them."  The Lord of Imladris replied sternly.  Glorfindel, prince among elf-lords that he was, was singularly unimpressed by this show of lordly power.  Calmly he squared off against his liege-lord.

"If they are found by some other party, you would know faster if you stayed here, since they would be brought here immediately." Glorfindel pointed out calmly, blocking Elrond's path to the larger weapons.  While Elrond may be the lord of this haven, Glorfindel saw no need for Elrond's will to hold sway when the half-elf wanted to do something he thought was particularly reckless.  Erestor kept well clear of the pair, though he watched intently.  He knew his way around a sword and knife – most elves that lived though the wars with Melkor and Sauron had learned one way or the other.  However, he was a scribe and scholar by choice, and left militant matters to those better suited for it.  That included facing down an angry, armed, and strong-willed father whose sons had gone missing.

"Stand aside, Glorfindel.  I cannot simply stay here and let others do what I should be doing just to uphold your ideas of propriety.  My sons need me."  Elrond growled flatly, his bright grey eyes narrowing dangerously.  He knew what Glorfindel wanted – he had known the valiant warrior for too long not to know of the duty Glorfindel thought he must carry out.  He had been grateful for it more than once.  It had saved his life centuries ago in the Last Alliance, it had protected his sons… but he simply was not capable of staying behind, no matter what Glorfindel thought.  His frustration rose when his long-time friend did not budge an inch.

"What if they did leave Imladris, Elrond?  Would you follow them then?  Would you leave your people without a leader, and your wife without comfort?" Glorfindel asked brazenly, sternly forbidding himself the luxury of flinching at the harshness of his words.  To his credit, Elrond did not lash back in anger.  The worried elf-lord considered the question, and if he did so without his usual calm and logical manner, it might be excused.  

"Yes, I would go.  They are my _sons_, Glorfindel.  You ask the impossible by wanting me to stay here where I cannot do either of them any good." Elrond finally replied, in a tone much more calm than previously.  Unexpectedly, Glorfindel stepped aside, allowing Elrond passage.  Both Elrond and Erestor looked surprised at that – they expected a more vigorous battle.  Elrond did not fret about it, however.  He stepped forward quickly, searching for his old blade amongst the well-cared for array of weapons.  He was so intent on his search he did not hear Glorfindel step closer behind him, nor did he hear his old friend raise the pommel of his sword.  Before Erestor could cry out a warning, Glorfindel tapped the heavy pommel against the back of Elrond's head, using only just enough force to knock the half-elf unconscious.  Carefully he caught Elrond before the stunned elf-lord could fall to the ground, gently laying him out flat on the cool time-smoothed floor.  His fair face wore a grieved expression as he checked Elrond's pulse and breathing, making sure Elrond was merely unconscious.  Erestor hurried over, accusation in his eyes.  Glorfindel saw the storm of reproach coming, and forestalled it with an outstretched hand.

"He could not come, Erestor.  I do not know if I will find them, though I pray I will.  He is strong and capable, I know… but his thinking is clouded when it comes to his family.  He would not take care of himself if he thought recklessness would help find his sons.  Take care of him." He ordered quietly before standing.  He gave his friend one last regretful look, then strode out the door.


	5. Plans and Discoveries

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all things associated belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs – I am just playing for a while.  I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Plans and Discoveries

Noon found Elrohir and Elladan sharing a honey-cake feast atop a large boulder, both staring out over the wide trackless plain like twin princes over their kingdom.  The boulder jutted up from the sea of bright green grass like an island in the sea.  The grass seemed to continue in one smooth carpet forever, though there were many hidden rifts and valleys throughout this portion of Anor.  The ponies, Stormy and Cloudy, grazed contentedly a short distance away.  The twins had made what they believed to be good time during the morning ride.  After a brief debate after crossing the Ford of Bruinen, they had decided to travel east for a time, since bad things usually came from the east, and ada would surely be out there somewhere fighting the bad things.  They could help, since they brought their knives.  

            "We should start planning how to get over the Misty Mountains." Elrohir commented around a mouthful of sweet bread.  He had loved the piles of maps in his ada's library, and had spent hours staring at them intently, admiring how a squiggly line could actually be a rushing river, or a jagged line be a tall mountain range.  Elladan frowned, and turned to look at the hazy shapes of the mountain range.

            "But it is so far away!  It will take us weeks and weeks to get there, why should we plan that part now?" he protested.  It seemed much more sensible to him to plan how they were going to attack the orcs they were going to find.  Elrohir shook his head in a knowledgeable fashion, much like their tutor was wont to do. 

            "No, 'Dan…   I have seen the maps.  They are only this far away." Elrohir asserted, holding his fingers a careful sliver apart.  Elladan studied his twin's fingers for a while, quietly referring back to the barely-seen mountains every few moments.  

            "'Ro… how can they be that far away if I can step like this…" he rose, a bit unsteadily, and took an exaggerated step across the boulder, "and still be far away from the mountains?"  This stymied Elrohir.  The distances had looked so small on the map!  However, he could not refute his brother's argument – that step was definitely bigger than the space on the map.  In fact, if Elladan had walked that far on the map, he would be in Gondor by now.  He tried to puzzle the problem out while Elladan cautiously made his way back to his perch and flopped back down on his seat.

            "Maybe… the distances… are bigger in the real thing than on the map?"  Elrohir suggested hesitantly.  After all, the Bruinen had looked like a tiny squiggle on the map, and had been quite wide in real life, bigger than two pony lengths.  That had confused him for a bit, but he had forgotten it in the ensuing debate over where they should travel.  Elladan had won, since he knew more about quests and things like that.

            :"How much bigger?" Elladan demanded.  He had preferred books to maps, since he would rather hear the descriptions of other lands rather than look at pictures of them.  

            "I do not know… maybe a lot." Elrohir admitted quietly.  Elladan frowned angrily.

            "How will we know when we'll get there then?  We could take weeks, and ada and naneth will wonder what is taking us so long!" he cried.  This sudden, and very loud, outburst startled the two ponies, which bolted a few steps before deciding that the twins were not about to attack them.  Elladan and Elrohir were too engrossed in their argument to pay attention to their straying mounts.  

            "No they will not, because they have been out of the valley before, and know how far it is to different places!" Elrohir argued hotly, determined to prove he was not causing this quest to fail.

            "But what if they have not been to the place they are now?  Then they would not know." Elladan pointed out, with a bit of a superior air.  "We will be late, and I'll tell them 'We would be here sooner ada and naneth, but 'Ro did not know how far we had to go, and we were lost.'" He crowed.

            "We will not get lost, you orc!" Elrohir shouted, startling the ponies further. Both elflings rose to their feet, facing each other, and paid no mind to the ponies, which were wandering farther and farther away.

            "You're the orc!  You just don't want to be wrong!" Elladan shouted back, sensing triumph.

            "I am _not _wrong!  We will just have to go farther than on the map!  Just because I do not know how far does not mean I'm wrong, stupid orc!"

            "Not an orc!" Elladan howled, and pounced on his brother.  The flying tackle knocked both elflings off the boulder and into the grass, where they wrestled furiously.  The noise and confusion frightened the two ponies further, and since they were sensible beasts, they bolted back towards the safety of their stalls… back in Imladris.  Neither elfling noticed the ponies' departure.  The wrestling degenerated into a mud-slinging contest.  There was no lack of ammo, since the melting snows that made this land green had also provided plenty of mud.  The shadows lengthened as the afternoon wore on, and eventually two mud-covered elflings stretched out on the sun-warmed boulder.

            "So we have a long way to go yet?" Elladan asked sleepily, moving only his head to look over at his twin.  Playing in the mud was tiring work.

            "Yes.  But with Stormy and Cloudy it should not take too long." Elrohir assured his twin.  Elladan nodded in agreement.  Neither twin bothered to check on the ponies, since in the stories the hero's noble steed never wandered away.  It never occurred to the twins that the reason for this was the hero, a trained warrior, knew enough to tether his horse during breaks.  While many well-trained elvish mounts could be trusted to stay put without the need for a tether, the twins' ponies were young yet, and full of the willfulness of their kind.  

            "'Ro?"  Elladan's sleepy voice broke the lazy afternoon silence.

            "Yes 'Dan?" Elrohir sounded equally weary.

            "I miss naneth and ada." Elladan admitted mournfully

            "I miss them too, 'Dan." Elrohir concurred, but Elladan did not hear him.  A soft snore was the only answer he received.  With a sigh, he curled up on the warmed stone and fell asleep next to his twin.

            Glorfindel was in a fine rage by the time he and his small mounted scouting party reached the edges of Imladris valley.  He had personally searched all of the twins' favorite hiding spots, and came up empty.  The longer he searched, the stronger the nagging feeling at the back of his mind became.  He was already half-convinced that the twins had somehow managed to escape the valley's bounds.  If that was true… he only hoped Elrond would stay unconscious long enough for the search to come to a successful conclusion.  Somehow, he did not think he had hit the half-elf quite that hard.  As the small band neared the edge of the forest, a tall slim figure leapt down from an overhead perch.

              "Hirtirun, any word?" Glorfindel called, unconsciously repeating Elrond's comment from earlier as he pulled Asfaloth to a stop.  Luckily for both Glorfindel's and Hirtirun's pride, neither recognized the veiled insult in their shared anxiety over the missing twins. 

            "None.  If they came this way, they should be teaching _us _lessons in stealth, for neither I nor my companions have seen them." He asserted confidently.  Of course, they had a wide area to patrol, but they had been doing so for centuries.  He was less confident when he noted his commander was no longer paying attention to him.  Glorfindel was staring intently at the ground.  After a moment, he slipped off the faithful Asfaloth, kneeling to get a better look at the mark that had caught his attention.  It was the imprint of a horse's hoof… but it was very small, and there was a strange irregular patch on the outside edge… his memory flashed back to the day the twins' ponies had been shod.  The twins had been taken with the idea of marking things as theirs at the time, and had begged the stable master to somehow mark the shoes so everyone would know that they had ponies.  The stable master had obliged, chipping out a small section on the outside edge of the shoes that would go on the hind hooves…

            "Valar protect them." He breathed, stunned.  "And me as well, while they are at it." 


	6. Trails and Tribulations

Disclaimer:  Middle Earth and all things and people related to it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

Trails and Tribulations

When Elrond awoke, he almost instantly regretted that he had.  His head ached furiously, sending pulsing pain from the back of his head through his brain.  Worse than the pain was the feeling that he should be doing something, something very important… if only he could make the pain stop so he could think straight.  His training as both a soldier and a healer took over and he laid still, trying to categorize the injuries done to him.  His legs still worked, his arms were still attached… and he was dealt no major cuts or slashes, as far as he could tell…  just the ferocious pain at the back of his head.  Warily he lifted his left hand, reaching back to attempt to further investigate this injury.  Another hand, softer and smaller than his own, captured and held his, stopping his movement.

            "My lord?  Lord Elrond, are you well?" an anxious and masculine voice asked somewhere off to his right.  '_Erestor' _he realized, recognizing the voice of his long-time councilor, and was secretly amused.  One would think, after being with him for so long, that Erestor would drop the honorific when not in formal company.  Ah well.  If Erestor did that, Elrond might die from shock over the whole thing.  In addition, Elrond decided matters must not be too grave, if it was Erestor at his side instead of a healer.  He did wonder why it was Erestor calling him, and not Glorfindel – he had grown used to awaking in pain and hearing the stubborn warrior's voice echoing in his ear from the long years of siege at Dagorlad.  The nagging feeling from earlier assaulted him again, turning down the corners of his mouth in a worried frown.  Where was he, and what has happening?

            "Elrond… my love, open your eyes." A second, decidedly feminine voice ordered, though her tone was bordering on outright mirth.  There was, however, a note of sadness and worry in that voice.  It was that worrisome tone, more than anything else, which convinced him to finally open his eyes.  The fact that they were closed was a minor worry – if his wife and chief councilor saw no reason to fret over it, then neither should he.

            "Celebrian?  What is wrong?" he asked before his eyes could focus properly.  Gradually the lovely vision of the silver-haired elf-maiden that was his wife swam into clear view.  Absently he noted from the light shining through the window behind his wife that it was mid-day already.  He was in his own room, with Erestor sitting stiffly in a carved chair and Celebrian curled up beside him in bed.  

            "What do you remember?" Erestor questioned quietly from his other side.  Elrond frowned slightly without taking his eyes from Celebrian as he considered the question.  Muddled memories slowly worked their way to the surface as he concentrated.  "The Dunédain… they came for help in the night.  I had to pacify that ignoble brute first… and then I went to see Elladan and Elrohir…" his grey eyes widened in shock, and he tried to sit up.  Celebrian laid a restraining hand on his chest.  

            "Rest, Glorfindel and the search parties are long gone.  He has been sending back reports every hour… the next messenger is due soon." The wise silver lady soothed.  Elrond did not reply, instead turning to glare daggers at his remaining councilor.  

            "You let him leave?" His voice was silky and calm, but the terrifying fury in his eyes made Erestor's heart quail.  Elrond was an elf-lord of power, the heir and herald of the High King Gil-galad, and was not to be trifled with lightly.  "You let him leave without challenge, without rebuke?  Erestor, he countermanded my orders, directly disobeying my will in this matter." His voice was cold and hard, and Erestor was beginning to believe he would rather his lord raged and fumed rather than have him continue in this tightly controlled manner.

            "My lord Elrond, I…" Erestor nervously began, but Elrond swiftly cut him off with a commanding gesture.

            "No.  I do not wish to hear it.  Leave us." He ordered quietly, but there was finality in his voice that kept Erestor from protesting.  Without another word, Erestor silently left the room, courteously shutting the door behind him.  Celebrian gave him a stern glance, shaking her head.

            "He did not deserve that.  He has been beside himself with worry since you were brought in, my love." She admonished him gently, running a soothing hand through his dark tresses.  Elrond sighed and pulled himself up as Celebrian propped up pillows behind him so he could sit comfortably.  His head still ached, but the pain was manageable.

            "I know he did not, and I will apologize to him… assuming he will ever let me close enough to do so." Elrond replied ruefully, and then shook his head gingerly, finally looking away in shame.  "I am sorry, _nin-meleth_.  I meant to bring them back to you.  I…" Celebrian laid a hand over his lips, her other hand turning his head towards her so she could meet his eyes.

            "There is nothing for you to be sorry for.  They are safe; you know this too be true.  If they were not, you would most certainly know.  Glorfindel will find them.  Have you ever known him to fail in what he sets out to do?"  Celebrian asked softly, resuming her comforting ministrations.  Elrond gave his wife a soft smile, and lifted a hand to copy her movements.

            "_Nin-meleth_, it is I who is supposed to be comforting you." He protested gently.  Celebrian shook her head.

            "Allow me this small distraction, Elrond.  If I think of them, out there, alone, I shall go mad with worry." She begged, here bright blue eyes finally filling with tears.  Her heart was well nigh broken with fear when she thought of her sons and only by caring for her husband was she able to stay calm.  Elrond saw this with a keen glance and nodded.  Slowly he shifted to curl his arms around her.  She rested her head on his chest, and together they waited for the latest news, both anticipating and dreading its coming.

            Glorfindel splashed over the Ford of Bruinen, his company hard on his heels.  He held up a hand to halt them before they reached the far shore, not wanting any tracks trampled beyond recognition.  Slowly and carefully, he rode along the riverbank, searching for the precious marks he knew must be here.  They had been following the twins' trail since high noon, moving as best they could with the narrow trail and sometimes-faint trail.  They were reaching muddier land now, which boded well for tracking if their light held.  The night still came swiftly and with a bone-freezing chill.  In another hour or so night would fall, and the new moon would lend little light to aid their search.  There!  He leaned over Asfaloth's neck to peer at the hoof imprints.  Yes, these were the twins' ponies… he waved the company forward as he kneed Asfaloth forward.  

He had just left the river when two shrill neighs broke the still afternoon air, and the sound of galloping hooves came steadily closer.  His ears pricked and he leaned forward in the saddle.  Could the twins be returning?  He was fully prepared to welcome the twins home, with reprimands of course, when the two master-less ponies broke through the cover of the forest and bolted towards him.  He paled at the sight of them – muddied, with their sides heaving.  Stormy bore a jagged slash along his flank, and the whites of both ponies' eyes were showing.  Calmly, murmuring soothing words, he dismounted and reached for both of the scared mounts.  Another of his company dismounted to aid him, and soon both ponies were caught and examined.  They only bore their tack: there was no sign of either the twins or their packs, which the kitchen staff assured him both twins carried.  He ran a hand through Stormy's mane as he considered his next move.  Finally, he called a messenger forth.  

            "Lead both of these ponies back to the stables, then tell Lord Elrond that I ride on.  Tell him…" he paused and closed his eyes, already regretting the pain he had caused and would cause his long-time friend.  "Tell him I will not come back without them."  Without another word he swung up into Asfaloth's saddle.  

            "We ride on, by sun or by starlight!  We do not return without the sons of Elrond Peredhil!" he cried defiantly at whatever fate wished to oppose him.  Then he kneed Asfaloth, and the noble charger reared and leapt forward, following the outgoing path of hoof prints in the mud.  The bells on his horse's harness rang shrilly in the chill afternoon air.  His company gathered and charged behind them, leaving the lone elf with his two new equine charges.  Slowly the elf mounted his own quiet gelding, and they re-crossed the ford, making their careful way back to Imladris.


	7. A Shift in the Wind

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all of her related characters are the rightful property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I am just playing for a while, I promise to put my toys away when I am done.

A Shift in the Wind

Elrohir sighed.  This adventure was not nearly as much fun since their ponies had run away.  The elflings trudged wearily through the thick goopy mud.  The fading light of the afternoon sun showed them nothing but green plains stretching as far as their keen elvish eyes could see.  True, the purplish haze of the mountains was still before them, but it looked much as it had when they had first left Imladris, and that was hardly encouraging.  He thought it was odd that none of the adventures he had ever heard ever mentioned this – the heroes were always dashing about, killing dragons, saving princesses, finding mysterious jewels… never trudging through the mud as the chill of an early spring night began to seep through their too-thin cloaks.  They had not known when they left that their cloaks had been made only to keep elflings warm in a protected valley in springtime.  It was not the strongly woven stuff the guards and patrols wore when hunting.  In addition, and the twins could be forgiven for not knowing it, their half-elven heritage did not help matters any.  They were pre-disposed to feel the cold and damp more than their full-blooded elven kin would.  Their shadows stretched out before them as the sun set in a fiery blaze.  Soon it would be night, and they were no closer to finding ada and naneth than they had been this morning.  This fact saddened Elrohir than any other aspect of their journey.  So far, they had seen no sign of their parents – he was not even sure they were going in the right direction.  Surely, if they were on the right track, they would have seen something by now.

            "Elladan?" he asked, having to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the wind that had started to howl as the sun had begun to fade into the west.  He shivered a bit and tugged his cloak closer in an attempt to block out the wind as he hurried along behind his twin.  He used his brother's full name, the one ada said that they should use in formal company, to show 'Dan that he was being serious.  It always worked for naneth.

            "Yes, 'Ro?" Elladan replied, not noticing his twin's use of his full name.  He was bone-tired, and fervently wished he was back home, before a warm fire, with ada and naneth…  Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes, and he furiously dashed them away.  Heroes did not cry.  Of course, he never thought heroes would have to trudge through the mud either.  He was beginning to suspect that adventures on a whole were a lot harder than the stories made them out to be.  Heroes always seemed to have it easy – they knew what they had to do, and they always knew exactly how to do it.  There never seemed to be any heroes that were lost and confused, as he felt.  Perhaps this was not such a wise idea.  He could not tell that to Elrohir, though.  He did not want his twin to think he was afraid.  He was not afraid… he just wished that someone else could take control now and take care of everything.

            "Elladan, I want to go home." Elrohir sniffed mournfully.  This adventure was not proceeding as he had thought it would.  Elladan stopped and faced his twin, his face unreadable.  Both looked bedraggled and weary, the remnants of their mud battle still covering their clothes and further chilling them.  The braids they had so carefully worked on early this morning were in disarray, giving them the appearance of little lost waifs.  Elrohir lowered his head, afraid to see the reproach in Elladan's eyes.  After all, he had willingly joined this little expedition, and it was ill done to turn back now that things were not as easy as he thought.  It was just… perhaps Glorfindel would know how best to find ada and naneth – and he could order the Imladris Guard to help as well.  Even Erestor might be able to help somehow… maybe by counting the number of rolls the cooks made for the Guard before they left.  Erestor liked to count things.  Carefully Elrohir studied the ground beneath his booted feet, wondering what his twin would say.

            "I want to go home too."  Elladan's quiet admission brought Elrohir's gaze up quickly in surprise.  The twins looked at each other for a long moment, gauging each other's sincerity.  To the amazement of both, it seemed that they had both been thinking along the same lines, but neither had wanted to admit it to the other.  Then, companionably, they both turned back towards the west and began their long trudge home.  

            "Do you think we'll be there in time for supper?  I think we're out of honey-cakes." Elladan asked cheerfully.  During their feast on the rock much earlier in the day, they had severely depleted their rations.  They had never stopped to consider that getting more supplies might be more difficult out in the wild than it was at home.

            "Perhaps.  Maybe we will be even luckier and arrive _after _dinner, and we will get dessert first!"  Elrohir grinned.  Somehow, it seemed warmer when they walked toward the sun.  Now, in much better spirits, the twin elflings marched through the mud, the wind howling around them, and night beginning to fall.  Stars were beginning to appear on the eastern horizon, bright and clear in the chill night.  The stars alone would make the journey worthwhile, for here in the plains there were no trees to block the view.  The howling continued, however, and the twins never noticed that it became louder and closer as night crept over the land.

                        "My love, you are going to wear a hole in the floor."  The constant pacing footsteps that had been sounding against the hard wood floor for the past couple of hours finally stopped, stilled by this patient reminder. 

                        "Where could they have gone?  Elrond, I fear for them so…" Celebrian was near tears, though whether they were tears of frustration or fear not even she could tell.  She had stopped by the balcony that overlooked the empty courtyard, and she watched the gates intently.  It was as if she hoped to bring her sons home by sheer willpower alone.  Not such a vain concept, Elrond mused, considering her ancestry.  The Golden Lady could have probably performed such a stunt.  The grandnephew of Elu Thingol had power as well, though it was of an entirely different sort.  Neither parent, however, could grant his silver queen the power to summon her children from thin air.  

                        "As a wise elf told me recently, when have you known Glorfindel to fail?  They will return, Celebrian, safe and sound.  No harm has come to them yet.  I would have known, as you would have." Elrond reminded her quietly, rising from his seat to stand behind her.  He laid steadying hands on her shoulders, and she gratefully leaned back into him.  She reached a hand up to idly twist one of his braided locks between her fingers, her eyes still fixed on the empty gate.

                        " When I think of their ponies… Elrohir's was hurt…" she whispered achingly, her control almost shattering.  Elrond's hands tightened on her shoulders, and he bowed his head against hers.  The memory of one of Glorfindel's scouts leading his sons' ponies, both with empty saddles and with frightening injuries, through the gate was a painful one.  He was heartened somewhat by Glorfindel's promise, for he knew his friend meant it, and would carry it out, no matter what that meant in terms of personal sacrifice.  That did not make waiting any easier.  In addition, he was heartened, strangely enough, by the injuries Elrohir's pony bore.  They were not wounds a mounted steed could easily gain, since a rider would have come between the pony and the creature that attacked it.  That meant, for better or for worse, his sons were not riding when the ponies were attacked.  Whether that meant his sons were somewhere else, safe, or some other, darker, meaning, he dared not to guess.  He was sure about one thing – if his sons had been hurt, he would have known it.  He clung to that fact fiercely, and with it fought off despair.  He knew he should attempt to convince Celebrian to come away from the balcony, to do something to distract herself from the ongoing crisis, but he found he was unable to do to her what he was unable to do himself.  Iluvatar help him, but he could not imagine moving until he saw his sons again.

                        "They will come home, my love.  Do not consider any other option."  He urged softly, moving his hands to draw her into a firm embrace.  Together, they watched in silence as the shadows lengthened and the sun began to sink behind the western horizon.

                        "This is preposterous." Mathorn growled irritably as he paced the narrow corridor between beds in the infirmary.  "We are being treated like ignorant children at best, though perhaps dumb servants would be a more apt description.  We have been ignored, snubbed, left to fend for ourselves with healers who probably have not seen a human since their _lord_'s brother became one of us." His voice grew more bitter the longer he paced.  His ranting, however, was cut off by a patient, albeit weak, voice from one of the beds.

                        "You would not expect the king to come down and tend to us if we were in Annúminas, now would you?" the speaker was simply dressed, though the clothes looked slightly odd on him.  They were of elvish make, since his uniform had been torn and bloodied beyond repair once he had reached Imladris.  Maechen was a very self-possessed commander, and did not look the least bit discomforted by his dress or his surroundings.  He had always wanted to visit the hidden elven haven… he had just hoped to do so when able-bodied.  He smiled tolerantly at his junior officer. 

                        "Peace, Mathorn.  From what the healers tell me, Lord Elrond is having a trying day."  Of course, he had heard nothing untoward directly from the healers, but he was a skilled commander, and knew a smattering of Sindarian besides.  He knew how to casually listen in on conversations he was not supposed to hear, and while he had not been able to pick up details, he gathered that not all was well in Imladris.  

                        "I also hear that you had some hand in it, Mathorn.  Is there anything you would like to mention on that vein?" his voice was deceptively calm.  He knew that the elven lord had always been a friend and ally of the Kingdom of Anor, and the thought that his junior officer had been so boldly insulting Lord Elrond was infuriating, even if logically he could have done nothing about it.  As he had been told, he had been unconscious at the time.  Mentally he made a note to see if there was any way to quietly demote Mathorn.  The lad was the distant relative of some councilor, and thus it was dangerous to properly put the boy in his place, but he would not stand for such behavior in his officers.  If he could not trust them to simply be polite, what else could he not trust them to do, or more importantly, not do?

                        "He would not see reason, sir.  He would not lend support to our effort to drive the wargs back over the mountains.  Surely the latest attack should have been evidence enough of the growing reach of the darkness that comes from the mountains!  I cannot believe…" he was swiftly cut off by a commanding gesture from Maechen.

                        "Silence.  If anyone is to ask an ally formally for military support, it should be the king, not you." He reminded Mathorn sharply.  "I do not want to hear of another incident for the rest of our stay.  You will conduct yourself as a proper officer, and if you do not, you _will_ bear the consequences.  Am I being quite clear?" 

                        "Sir, yes sir." Mathorn quietly replied, outwardly the very picture of military obedience.  Inwardly he raged.  The elves had obviously worked their magic on his commander – it was clear the man was not thinking clearly.  No matter, he could wait.


	8. Nearing the End of the Road

Disclaimer:  Middle Earth and all things and people related to it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien  and his heirs.  I promise to put my toys away when I am done.    

Nearing the End of the Road

"My lord!" the scout's cry caught Glorfindel's attention.  "Sir, deeper tracks."  Glorfindel pulled Asfaloth to a halt, staring intently at the indentations the scout indicated.  They were the same type of tracks they had been following earlier – two shod ponies.  These, however, were deeper, showing that the ponies were heavily laden.  In addition, the tracks steadily led away from Imladris.  His relieved smile gleamed in the failing afternoon light.  They were getting closer.  The twins could not be too far ahead.  The ponies needed time to make the journey out and back, and his party had been traveling much faster than two errant elflings would ever dare.  Soon he would see them again, and re-assure himself that they were safe.  He was not entirely sure if he wanted to hug them the entire way back to Imladris, or shake them for their foolishness.

            "Good work, Tirithon." He praised the scout.  The rest of the company was making good use of the break - grabbing a bite to eat, or making sure that their horses were still sound and ready for any action.  "With any luck…" he stopped suddenly, his attention fixed to the east.  The rest of the company stilled and listened as well.  For just a moment, all was silent in that small corner of Eriador.  Then, dimly, the sound of howling reached their ears.  Wolves!  Glorfindel could feel the eerie sound chilling his blood, and he paled.  In his mind, he could see two small elflings, encircled by a hungry pack…

            Evidently, he was not the only one with an over-active imagination.  All around him, he could hear the sounds of sharply indrawn breath and horses shifting nervously under suddenly tense riders.  The twins were well loved, it seemed.  However, he was not about to allow some ill conceived and poorly executed attack just because time was short.  He knew what damage undue haste could bring, even when it was caused by the best of intentions.

            "Archers out front until you sight them, then two shots as quick as you like and fall back.  Make your arrows count." He emphasized, wanting no wild shooting while the twins were about.  "When the archers move back, swordsmen charge.  Surround and protect the twins first, killing the wolves is secondary.  Archers protect the swordsmen and keep the wolves back.  Am I understood?"  Around him, elves nodded or muttered agreement.  Glorfindel nodded in satisfaction – he had trained this group well.  

            "Then may the Valar be with us and protect us." As one, the party wheeled off into the gathering gloom.

            "Look 'Dan, it's our rock!" Elrohir found the energy to dash ahead of his brother.  There, just visible in the failing light of the setting sun, was the boulder the twins had picnicked on earlier in the day.  Elladan followed his twin's lead, and soon both elflings were clambering up the rugged stone.  It was harder to climb than it was before, since both of the twins were weary from walking all afternoon.  If they had been home, this would be the time either Elrond or Celebrian would scoop them up and carry them off to bed.  The wind had died away roughly an hour before and now all was silent, save for the chirping of the crickets.  The first evening stars were beginning to shine in the clear evening sky, including one both of the elflings were familiar with.  Elladan eyed his daeradar's star thoughtfully.  Since his daeradar was up so high, it was possible that he had seen ada and naneth.  Elladan stared at the star that was no star.  How does one talk with a star mariner?  He was not even sure how he was supposed to get his daeradar's attention.  He turned to his twin, who was contentedly watching the stars appear, and was about to ask for his opinion, when a long, low, howl stopped him.

            Both elflings froze instinctively, though they had never heard a real wolf howl before then.  They had been protected well.  The only howls they had ever heard were their own mock-battle cries and Glorfindel's attempts at mimicry during key points of exciting adventure stories.  This how was much more frighteningly real.  It shuddered from a deep rolling moan to a high yip, then slid back down the scale again.  As it died away, the twins looked at each other in mutual horror and excitement.

            "Do you think that was…"

            "… a wolf howl?" the twins asked each other simultaneously.  A second howl prevented them from answering each other and the twins turned as one to face its source.  The howls were getting closer.  Elladan drew his small knife, the blunted blade glinting in the fading light.  

            "'Dan, we can't hurt wolves with dull blades!" Elrohir hissed, looking ready to bolt.  "We can't even cut ourselves with them!"  He had reason to know – every once in a while, when he was excited, he was known to grab his knife by the blade and not the hilt, much to Glorfindel's dismay.  

            "The wolves don't know that they aren't sharp!"  Elladan whispered back, his young voice resolute.  Elrohir thought about this for a moment.  It was true – unless one looked closely at the knife in Elladan's hand, it was hard to tell that the edges were not razor sharp.  He drew his own knife, a twin to Elladan's, and found that he did feel a bit braver, if not safer.  

            At least, he felt braver and safer until a second wolf joined in the howling… from behind them.  Elrohir, remembering watching the guard drill for hours on end, moved so that he was standing back-to-back with Elladan.  After all, that is what all the great heroes did in this sort of situation.  Of course, the heroes usually had very sharp and very magical weapons as well, but hopefully that would not matter much.  Each twin watched the shadowy grassland in trepidation, hoping the wolves would find some other prey.  Their blades, though dull, were still good elvish make, and they shone with the last rays of the setting sun.


	9. Routs and Returning

Disclaimer:  Middle Earth and all things and people related to it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I promise to put my toys away when I'm done.

A/N:  One more chapter after this, I think.  Thanks to all my reviewers!

Routs and Returning

It was the twins' battle cries that gave the hunters the last clue they needed for guidance, and it spurred them on to greater speed.  The elven company charged over the rough ground, their mounts seeming to fly in the dim light of the stars and the thin, pale moon.  When Glorfindel finally spotted his quarry, his heart nearly stopped in fear.  The twins stood with blades drawn, staring down a pack of hungry, mangy wolves that circled the rock the elflings used as a defense.  The twins were screaming defiant war cries at their furry stalkers, to very little effect.  Some small, detached, part of Glorfindel's mind was amused as he heard cries that had not been used on a field of battle for an age at the least.    Still, the cries paled in comparison to the deep-throated howls the wolves were giving in return.  The balance suddenly changed as the sharp song of arrows in flight filled the air.  

            "_Glorfindel an Imladris!  Imladris, enni!_" He shouted with all of the breath in his lungs, and his elves around him took up the call, drowning out both the wolves and the desperate cries of the twins.  The wolves howled in pain and rage as they were wounded and driven away from their prey.  The archers finally slowed and spread out, firing with the precision and grace their kind was known for.  

            The swordsmen then swept forward, a glittering, roaring, fearsome wave of sharp metal and courage.  Using their bright blades and the heavy bodies of their mounts, they formed a living shield around the frightened elflings, further depriving the wolves.  Glorfindel joined the press, reaching out his shield hand to the twins, just to be sure that they were well.  

            "Glorfy!  Glorfy you came!" the twins' voices blended in their haste to greet their champion.  He noted with concern that both were shaking, though if it was from fear or from cold, he could not tell.  Of course, it was probably both, at this point.  They both still gripped their small knives so tightly that their knuckles stood out in stark relief.  He reached out further to hold them both, and they immediately ran to his side, the rock's height allowing them to snuggle close despite the fact that he was still mounted.

            "Hush now, dearhearts.  You're safe.  Here, ride with Tirithon, his horse can bear your combined weight." He ordered.  The scout, hearing his name, kneed his horse close to Glorfindel's side.  The twins instantly protested, not liking this turn of events in the least.

            "No, Glorfy, we want to stay with you, please!" they begged, their dark eyes pleading and desperate.  His heart nearly broke, but he remained resolute.  Ignoring the hurt looks on their tear-stained faces, he placed them securely before Tirithon, who had knotted his reins so he could have his hands free to hold the twins.  

            "Ride fast and get beyond the archers.  Do not come back for anything, understood?" he snapped, his voice quick and low.  Tirithon nodded in grim understanding.  The dark look on his lord's face boded ill for the wolves of Eriador.  

            The twins sobbed openly as Tirithon shouted to his mount, and the four flew away into the night.  Wolves came at them from every side, but even as the foul beasts leapt at their fleeing prey, lightning-fast arrows found their marks, dropping the wolves to the ground, dead.  Suddenly the wolves were gone, and Tirithon raised his voice in greeting as they galloped past the line of archers.  There the scout finally stopped their wild flight, though he kept a firm grip on Elladan and Elrohir.  No matter how the twins squirmed, they could not escape his tight embrace.  So instead they watched in stunned horror as one of the elves they loved best disappeared into a melee of shining steel and dark furry bodies.  Screams and howls rent the night, and more then once they heard Glorfindel shout his rallying cry.  Then, as if by some pre-arranged signal, the last of the wolves broke off their attack and sped away, vanishing into the shadows of the broken grasslands.  The twins were too stunned to cheer.  There were horses and elves on the ground, unmoving.  Where was Glorfindel?  Elladan and Elrohir clung to each other, trying to stifle their sobs as they watched the dimly lit scene, searching for some sign of hope.  Glorfindel would not want them to cry… they should be brave elflings now.  Even so, they could not stop the tears as the minutes slipped by without word.  

            The riders who were not badly wounded carefully gathered up those who were, cradling them gently for the long ride back to Imladris.  None were left behind, and thankfully, none had fled to Mandos.  As the re-mounted company slowly rode past the scout and his precious burden, the twins searched the face of each elf, hunting for what they believed was the only family they had left in this corner of the world.  

            Then he was there, reining in Asfaloth beside them.  Both twins immediately leaned dangerously far out of Tirithon's saddle, reaching for their rescuer.  Glorfindel gladly returned the embrace, holding the twins close.  

            "You are not hurt, either of you?  Oh praise Iluvatar, I have found you." He murmured into their hair.  The three clung to each other tightly as Tirithon watched, a wide smile on his fair face.  Then Elladan reared back and smacked Glorfindel with all of the might of his young fist.  Glorfindel, startled, leaned back, his eyes wide.  Now, this he had not expected.

            "You left us!" Elladan scowled, a black look on his face.  Elrohir, nodded in agreement and folded his arms across his thin chest.  "You are supposed to protect us, and you left us!"  Glorfindel was completely baffled.  What brought this on?  He was fine, the twins were fine, they were all fine… so now the twins decide to throw a fit?  

            "Dearhearts, I had to get you two away from danger, surely you see that?" he asked gently, but the twins were having none of it.  Through that strange means of communication that served to baffle those around them since they were born, they almost simultaneously turned their faces away from him.  Glorfindel sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.  It would be a long ride back to Imladris at this rate.

            The ride was long, and the night was half over before the company came clattering through the archway into the paved courtyard.  Healers poured from the main hall, rushing to tend those who were wounded.  Glorfindel and Tirithon, bearing newly awakened and sleepy-eyed elflings, slowly rode through the press, searching for two elves in particular.  

            "Ada!  Naneth!  Ro, do you see!"  Elladan saw them first, nearly bounding out of Glorfindel's arms in his excitement.  

            "Naneth!  Nanna, I'm here!" Elrohir called gleefully as he caught sight of his mother's bright silver hair.  The twins were set down and the bolted, running straight into the arms of their anxious parents.  Glorfindel smiled, satisfied.  All of his charges, safe and sound once more.  Stiffly he dismounted, handing the reins to the faithful scout.

            "Get inside, Tirithon, you're dismissed.  Better hurry if you want any hot water tonight." He slapped the scout on the shoulder in thanks.  The scout beamed, then lead both horses away to the stables.  Slowly the courtyard emptied, no one wanting to intrude on the gleeful reunion.  Glorfindel watched from the archway to which he had retreated.  Yes, this made it all worthwhile.


	10. Repetition

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and all things and people related to it belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs.  I promise to put my toys away when I'm done.

A/N:  And thus it is done.  Happy Birthday 'Dan!  Many thanks to all of my reviewers.

Repetition

            As the twins were bundled off to their baths by their naneth, Elrond went in search of his sons' rescuer.  He had noted with some worry the dark looks his sons had been giving the blond warrior as they had ridden into the courtyard.  He also did not like how quickly his long-time friend had disappeared once the twins had been delivered.  Surely, Glorfindel did not fear his wrath!  Elrond had lived with Glorfindel's protective care for over an age now, and he was well used to it.  This was hardly the most extreme example of the faithful guardian's zealous defense, though did rank pretty high on the list.  He could even admit, now that his sons were safe, that the Vanyan had been right – the valley could not go undefended while he searched out his sons, and Glorfindel was more than capable of tracking a pair of wayward elflings.  Indeed, Elrond's presence might have made the task more difficult with his impatience and reckless behavior.  

            There were many places in Imladris where a worried elf-lord might hide.  Elrond, however, was a highly methodical elf and eliminated each haven quickly.  The further he worked down his mental list, however, the more concerned he became.  Asfaloth had been in his stall, but for some reason Glorfindel had allowed one of the stable masters to care for the bold stallion.  Usually, Glorfindel took great pride in caring for his horse himself as an example to the younger warriors.  He was not in his quarters either, and there were no signs of him having been there since early morning.  Most worrying, to Elrond's mind, was his discovery of Glorfindel's weaponry and armor.  

            Usually Glorfindel was nearly obsessive about keeping all of his gear sparkling clean and well oiled, in case of great need.  Elrond knew the memory of Gondolin still burned in his friend's memory, though he prayed that such a day would never be repeated.  Today, while the gear was passably tidy, it was nowhere near as well cared for as it usually was.  Elrond made sure to order a new recruit to begin properly cleaning the abandoned weapons before hurrying off to where he now felt sure he would find his elusive friend.

            The infirmary was usually quiet at this hour of the evening.  Most of the Dunedain had recovered from their shock and injuries enough to be moved to rooms that were more comfortable.  Only three remained now – the wise Maechen, his loyal faithful second-in-command Himor, and the infuriating Mathorn.  It was the last edain's voice that he now heard as he strode into the room, and it was raised in furious argument and protest.

            "… While my captain has been lying here, in pain, unattended, forgotten like some nameless beggar…" a cool voice broke into the irate barrage of words.

            "Your captain looks quite well cared for – I am fairly sure he did not drug himself into the sleep he takes comfort in now, and I highly doubt you have the skill or ability to prepare even a rudimentary simple."  Now Elrond could se them: the officious man standing, taken aback, staring at the back of the noble elf.  Glorfindel's form shone dimly in the evening gloom as he searched through the supplies.

            "Glorfindel, sit down before you fall down, _mellon nin_." Elrond ordered mildly.  "The twins did not tell me that you had been injured." He noted calmly as he gathered some basic supplies, pointedly ignoring Mathorn's outraged glare.  Maechen seemed to be resting comfortably, and Himor was just waking, and was being tended by a young healer.  Elrond would check on them once he finished with his friend, but not a moment before.  

            "They did not know.  My cloak hid it well enough, and they were too busy being angry at me to be too observant." Glorfindel replied glumly, his voice betraying his hurt at the elflings' actions.  They had been outraged that he had sent them away, and had refused to be soothed.  Throughout the long ride back to Imladris, he had tried to make peace with the two elflings he loved as sons, but he had been met with scowls and cold words.  

            He winced slightly as Elrond began cutting his tunic away from his gashed side, but did not move otherwise.  It was not enough to fool Elrond, however.  The half-elf paused as he noted the muscles under his hands tense and still.  

            "Are you well?  I can ease this…" Glorfindel cut off the question with a careful negative gesture.

            "Just get on with it.  I have had worse, as you well know." The blond elf protested as Elrond gave him a narrow look.  Glorfindel sighed in resignation as Elrond rose and began mixing a handful of specially chosen herbs into warmed wine.  Evidently, Elrond was in no mood for heroics tonight.  He noted with irritation how Mathorn seemed to be closely following their conversation, so he easily switched from Westron to the more familiar Sindarian.  He did not care at the moment if that gave the annoying edain something new to complain about.

            "Please do not fuss, _mellon nin_.  It is not so bad, truly." He argued, his voice carrying a plaintive note.  He hated being drugged with a passion.  Even more, he hated having put this extra burden on Elrond's shoulders.  He meant to only find something to staunch the bleeding for the night, since he was fairly sure the cuts from the wolves' claws would heal within a day or so without help.  

            "Glorfindel, if you do not stop fussing, I will make you drink this now." Elrond threatened in Sindarian, gesturing with the full flagon in his hand.  Glorfindel looked up at his friend in confusion.  

            "Now?  Do you mean that I do not have to drink it?  Why did you make it then?" Elrond did nothing without reason.  

            "You may not feel the need now, but you will once I have finished." Elrond replied, his voice growing grim.  "Wolf claws are filthy things."  Glorfindel paled a bit at that, but nodded without complaint.  Elrond was the most skilled healer in Middle Earth, and it would be the height of foolishness to ignore a warning from him in his own infirmary.

            For a long while the pair were silent, Glorfindel concentrating on holding still, Elrond working to remove all of the debris and filth from the wounds his friend had garnered in defense of his sons.  As Elrond worked, he studied the blond warrior carefully.  He grieved for the sorrow his sons had caused his friend, for he knew that Glorfindel loved the twins as if they were his own.  As he finally began to suture the wounds closed, he spoke quietly.

            "They will not be angry forever.  Most likely they will have forgotten their grudge by the time they finish their bath, and will be clamoring for tales of their bravery from their 'Glorfy'." Elrond offered softly.  Glorfindel sighed.  

            "I know, I know.  And I will give them the praise they desire – they faced the pack that hunted them without fear." Elrond smiled to hear such tales of his sons.  They would grow to be fine warriors and leaders of their people… provided they managed to survive all of the trouble they seemed to get into during the normal course of the day.  Sometimes he wondered if he had been as much trouble when he was young… he did not remember being a wild elfling.  Rather, he always thought of himself as a quiet child.  The one good thing about being held hostage as a child by the sons of Feanor was there was no one to blackmail you with tales of your youth.  Suddenly the flesh beneath his hands twitched, and he heard muffled sounds above him.  

            "Glorfindel?' he looked up, concern in his eyes, but that soon faded as he watched his friend give into a fit of laughter.  After a few minutes, once the urge to laugh faded and Glorfindel mastered himself once more, Elrond regarded him with bemusement.

            "What was that about?  If I knew you found needles to be amusing, I would attempt to sew you up more often." He commented wryly.

            "Forgive me, _mellon nin._" Glorfindel replied, steadying his breathing, since laughing tugged at the stitches already sunk into his skin.  "I was just thinking that someday, those sons of yours are going to get married."

            "And this is amusing?" Elrond asked, confused.

            "Ah, but then they shall have elflings… and I shall teach those elflings all about adventures, then send their adas out to fetch them." Glorfindel explained with a great deal of satisfaction.  Sometimes, immortal life had great benefits.  As Elrond finished suturing and forced him to drink the wine, he plotted various ways to fill future elflings' minds with thoughts of adventure.

_Many centuries later:_

Ithilien had changed greatly from the years before Sauron's defeat.   Through the combined effort of Prince Legolas and Prince Faramir, the once wild and dangerous land was once again the garden of kings.  The ceaseless vigilance of earlier days had not slackened, however.  The Ithilien Rangers, who were now called the White Company, regularly patrolled along the fences of Mordor.  Though their master was defeated, rogue bands of orcs still wandered, now without a set purpose besides general mayhem and destruction. 

            The fair voices of the wood-elves hailed the return of one of these patrols as the body of men and horses cantered swiftly up a well-tended grassy avenue that was guarded and shaded by two rows of massive oaks.  This patrol was unusual, to say the least – it was not following its normal route, and in the vanguard rode a pair of dark-haired elves, the twin sons of Lord Elrond.

            Even more unusual was the young passenger that straddled the saddlebow before one of the rangers that followed the twin elves.  A small boy sat comfortably on one ranger's swiftly cantering horse, proudly disdaining the use of the ranger's solid body for balance.  He had the characteristic grey eyes and dark hair of the Numenorians.  The child's hair was unusually unruly, with dried leaf fragments poking out between the ruffled strands.  His grey eyes were stormy and fierce as he glared at the twin elves riding ahead of him.

            His fierce scowl melted away as the company poured into the courtyard of a stately manor that stood deep within the forests of Ithilien.  The banners floating overhead declared the devices of King Elessar Telcontar, but also those of Prince Faramir.  This was the Prince's residence in his home of Ithilien, among those lands that he spent the majority of his adult life defending.  A beautiful dark-haired woman dashed down the stairs towards the dismounting riders, unmindful of her own dignity.  As she ran her startled maids cried out in alarm, but she did not heed them.  She stretched her arms towards the young boy, her expression a mixture of great relief and puzzled anger.

            "Naneth!  Naneth!" the boy cried delightedly, leaning over dangerously in the saddle to reach the dazzling lady.  The ranger seated behind him quickly grasped the back of the boy's tunic, which earned the war-hardened man a scowl from the lad.  The boy, however, was distracted soon enough as a strong pair of arms swept him out of the saddle.

            "Ada!  Ada, I had an adventure!" the boy crowed proudly, knowing instinctively who now held him.  He felt himself settled against his ada's hip, and looked up adoringly into his ada's face.  A bit of the excitement left his face when he saw how serious his ada looked.  This was ada's 'king-face', the one he wore when saying things that were very important.

            "Eldarion, how you worried us!" Aragorn began sternly, but got no further as his lady wife, Arwen, finally reached the bottom of the stairs and joined them in a flurry of skirts and long braids.  Aragorn surrendered to his wife's unspoken demand and carefully handed Eldarion to his worried mother.  

            As Arwen alternately scolded and cuddled her wayward child, Aragorn quietly greeted his foster-brothers, thanking them warmly for the return of his son.  As he talked to the twins, however, he noted the slightly uneasy looks the elves gave his son as they tended their horses.  Also, he saw the dark glowers they earned from his son in return.

            "Is aught wrong?  Elrohir?" he asked, singling out one twin for questioning.  Elrohir stared back at him, his expression patently innocent.  Aragorn heard a faint rustle, and turned to fix Elladan with a glare as the older twin attempted to sidle away while Aragorn's focus was on Elrohir.  This unusual behavior was alarming Aragorn, and now he was determined to have the whole of the tale.

            "I fear our nephew is quite wroth with us." Elrohir admitted, attempting to placate his human brother, seeing Aragorn's expression darken rapidly.  "We spoiled his adventure, then left him with another while we dealt with the…" a quick hiss from Elladan cut Elrohir off mid-sentence, and both twins suddenly looked very blank.  Aragorn's eyes narrowed dangerously, and glanced back at his son quickly to reassure himself that the boy had sustained no injury.  

            "He is well, Estel." Elladan hurriedly assured Aragorn, unconsciously slipping into use of his foster-brother's childhood name.  "We found him before they could attack."  Now it was Elrohir's turn to hiss, and Elladan abruptly shut his mouth, giving his twin an apologetic look.  

            "Attack?" Aragorn growled softly, not wanting to unduly alarm Arwen.  "I think you had better explain, brother."  It was not a request.  It was at times like these that Elladan and Elrohir wondered if Aragorn was not more closely related to their father.  Aragorn had his eyebrow raised in the exact same manner that Elrond used to after catching the twins out in some prank.  

            Through a good deal of determination, and a few threats, Aragorn dragged out the tale of how his son had wandered away searching for adventure.  He had found it in the form of a small, masterless, band of orcs.  Thinking that he would win great glory, Eldarion had challenged them, alone and armed only with his favorite dulled training sword.  The twins had been searching for the child since his absence was discovered, and they had tracked Eldarion carefully, arriving at the scene of the near-disaster just bare moments before the orcs closed in.  As Aragorn returned to his wife, attempting to come up with some way to break the twins' story, Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other in bemusement.  Eldarion was still shooting the pair of them furious glares in between cuddles with his parents.

            "We must never tell Glorfindel."  Elrohir noted dryly.  Elladan nodded in agreement.

            "Nor let any other tell the tale.  I would hate for him to have to explain to Mandos how he managed to die laughing." 


End file.
